


Book of Scott

by CreepingDawn



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Foot Fetish, M/M, Magic, Milking, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Pedophilia, Prostate Massage, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Sex Toys, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 16:57:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21001058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreepingDawn/pseuds/CreepingDawn
Summary: A magic book transports Pat and his eleven-year-old son to an old memory of sorts. There, the boy is forced to endure pleasure while Pat gets to watch...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Readers,
> 
> So I started this story after talking with a friend about his past. The story was being written for him, as a thrill, and I was enjoying working on it.
> 
> However, he stopped communicating with me after we had a disagreement on something and has refused my emails trying to reconcile. At the time, I had 2 chapters done. Both will be posted. While I had originally planned a more expansive story, I have decided not to continue. That said, I may end up writing the third chapter to close out this first story arch. I'm not sure.
> 
> Cheers and please enjoy!

The soft chime from his phone drew Pat's attention away from the sitcom he was watching and he reach over to check his newest message. It was from his wife, he suspected, as had been all the messages he'd received that evening. The mother of his three children and the love of his life, she had left the home three days prior to care for an ailing relative across the country and was keeping him apprised of the situation through frequent, though oftentimes misspelled, texts.

Pat grinned as he glanced at the screen. The message was from his eleven-year-old son Matt. Matthew, the oldest of his three, had gone to bed about fifteen minutes earlier and Pat suspected that the boy was already comfortable underneath the covers and didn't want to walk downstairs to get a glass of water. Sure enough, when Pat opened the message, he discovered his suspicion was correct. This was not the first time such a request had been made by the pre-teen via text.

Getting up, Pat was about to head into the kitchen when there was a gentle knock at the door. Stepping up to the window, Pat looked out to see a delivery truck idling on the street and a young man in uniform holding a small package standing on his front step. After opening the door a moment later, the delivery drive apologized for the late night deliver, explained he had been delayed during the day, and handed the package over to Pat before heading back to his vehicle.

Almost two minutes later, Pat stood at his kitchen counter, packaging cast aside, and looked down at an approximately two-inch-thick hardback book that was covered in flowery gold patterns. "Strange," Pat muttered to himself. Then, out of curiosity, he opened the book to the first page of text. In beautiful script, it read: The Book of Scott

Shrugging, Pat closed the book, grabbed a glass of water for Matt, and headed upstairs. Slipping into his son's room, he grinned at the boy who was sitting up in bed and looking at him impatiently. "I texted you like, twenty minutes ago Dad!" the boy said, though Pat could detect a bit of humor in his voice.

"I know, I know." Pat said, handing his son the glass. "A package came right when I got up so I had to deal with that." As if to defend himself, he showed Matt the book.

"What did you order?" Matt asked.

"Not me. I bet it's your moms. Probably some romance novel. You know how she likes those."

Matt laughed. "Yeah, I know." the boy said. "Cool looking book, though."

Pat nodded. "I guess you're right. The gold pattern is kind of impressive."

"What's it called?" Matt asked as he took another swig of water.

"The Book of Scott," Pat replied, sitting down on the bed. As Matt looked on, Pat opened the book to the first chapter. "Chapter One is titled 'The Playroom'." Sensing an opportunity to tease his son a bit by pretending to read him a bedtime story, Pat looked down at the first few lines began reading aloud. 

"Once upon a time…"

Darkness suffused the room all of a sudden and Pat felt as if he had plunged into a cold pool in the middle of December. The shock of the icy chill burst along his entire body and blew the breath from his lungs. But as quick as the shocking cold came, it was over in a heartbeat. Then all he felt was warmth, as the darkness around him coalesced into light.

"What the fuck?" he said aloud. Spinning, he realized he was standing outside in the middle of the day. Where was Matt? How did he get outside? The last thing Pat remembered before the brief flash of cold was the opening sentence of the story he was about to read to his son. What was going on?

Taking a deep breath, Pat steadied himself and realized that he knew where he was. He was on Oak street, a few blocks over from the house in which he grew up. He'd had a paper route here when he was fifteen. But this place was hundreds of miles away from his home, several states away! How had he gotten here?

"I brought you here," said a voice from behind him. Spinning, Pat came face to face with a familiar, but somewhat different, face from his past.

"Scott?" Pat whispered, as if he couldn't believe it. He hadn't seen his former step-brother in years, though he recognized the man in front of him as the older boy who had so impacted Pat's own childhood.

"Yep. It's me. It's good to see you Pat." The man said, grinning.

"How?" Pat asked, not really understanding what was happening.

"That is a long story." Pat didn't respond, still stunned. "But the short answer is magic. The book you started reading. I sent it to you. It's magical."

"Magical?" Pat said dumbly, still confused.

"Yes. Magic. You are now in a story. A magical story."

"I don't understand," Pat said.

"I know. And I'll explain more as you read more stories. I promise. In the meantime, you should enjoy the show."

"The show?" Pat asked. Scott grinned, pointing behind Pat and causing the dazed man to turn and look over his shoulder. There, pulling up to a nearby house, was a familiar looking SUV. His mother's SUV. As he watched, both his mother and Matt got out of the vehicle. Turning to ask Scott a question, Pat was startled to see that his former stepbrother was gone. "Da fuck?" Pat muttered to himself.

"Do I have to stay here, Grandma?" Matt said from behind Pat and the man whirled around once again to see his mother and son walking up towards the house. Jogging forward, Pat approached the two as they kept talking and walking.

"Mom! Matt!" Pat said, trying to get their attention. Neither reacted and Pat frowned as he got close.

"Only until your flight home in three days, dear. I have that emergency out of town that I told you about, so I have to leave straight way. But don't worry. Mr. Spencer will put you on the plane and make sure to see you off."

"Mom! Matt!" Pat said more loudly, reaching out to grab his mother's shoulder. His hand, however, passed right through her.

"And who is this guy again?" Matt asked his grandmother, clearly unaware of Pat's presence. Pat stared at his hand and passed it through his mother once more. It had no effect. Suddenly, dozens of movies and TV shows passed through his mind where the characters found themselves as ghosts or spirits or apparitions, able to see the world around them but unable to interact with it. He was incorporeal.

"An old friend of the family. He used to babysit my former stepson Scott all the time. He moved away abruptly, though, but just recently came back to the neighborhood." Pat tried multiple times to get their attention, but nothing worked, and soon he found himself standing with them at the front door. His mother, oblivious to his presence, reached out and rang the doorbell. A minute or so later, and older man opened the door and broke into a large smile.

++++

Darkness engulfed Pat once more but the light followed within a hair's breadth. This time, there was no feeling of cold or warmth, nor was there any disorientation. Instead, Pat found himself standing in the middle of a living room staring at the older man, who was sitting on the couch, and his son Matt, who was sitting on a recliner. The window beyond was dark, showing that it was nighttime. This conclusion was corroborated by his son's pajamas and the man's sweatpants, tee shirt, and slippers. Movie credits rolled across the flat screen TV.

"Thanks for renting Pirates of the Caribbean, Mr. Spencer!" Matt said with enthusiasm. "It was awesome!"

The man chuckled. "Yes it was, Matt. I can't believe I've never seen it either!"

"So now what?" Matt asked. "It's only eight. I'm not tired."

"Well," Mr. Spencer said, giving Matt a considering look. "I could show you my playroom. Your step-uncle Scott used to love it down there. Spent hours and hours playing with the various toys and enjoying himself."

"Really?" Matt asked, obviously intrigued.

"Yep. Your dad never made it down there, though. I know your step-uncle was going to bring him over one time, but I had to leave the state a week before they were supposed to visit. Your step-uncle was so upset. He said your dad was really looking forward to the playroom and I don’t think that Scott ever forgave me for having to leave."

"Well that’s too bad! But I guess, since I'm here, maybe I can make up for lost time? Maybe I can see it and then tell my dad about it?"

"That's not a bad idea. After all, you don't have to leave for three days. That gives you plenty of time to enjoy yourself down there."

Pat's jaw dropped. It all made sense, now. Dread began to creep into him at the same time that he felt his pants tighten with arousal. This place! It was the infamous playroom! This man was Scott's mysterious friend!

Pat followed Mr. Spencer and Matt as they headed towards the basement stairs, the two chatting while Pat's mind tried to grapple with what was going on. The shock of this whole thing was too much, though, and he could only watch as events unfolded.

The basement was pitch black, the only light coming from the stairs. It didn't deter Mr. Spencer and Matt, however, and both soon found themselves standing at the bottom step. Pat crowded in behind them, though every attempt he made to touch them left him in ghost form. Mr. Spencer reached out casually and flipped on the light switch, illuminating the entire room. Pat's eyes grew wide.

The room was filled with shelves and shelves of sex toys. Dildo's, butt plugs, vibrators, masturbation sleeves, ball gags, cock rings, and a whole host of things Pat had never seen before were immediately visible in the light and Pat groaned to himself.

"Whoaaaaaa" Matt said, impressed but clearly not understanding the nature of the various toys. Pat knew his son was at a loss, as he had not yet had the birds and bees talk with the boy (it was planned for that summer) and Pat knew that the youngster had not begun to explore anything sexual online as of yet. He doubted his son had even heard of a dildo a this point.

"Pretty cool, huh?" asked Mr. Spencer as he put a hand casually on Matts shoulder and began to lead the lad towards the center of the room. There, gleaming in the light, was a gynecological chair.

"Yeah," said Matt, though there was now some uncertainty in his voice.

Mr. Spencer kept talking as he directed Matt to the chair, the eleven-year-old not putting up a fight as he was helped into it. The boy looked confused, and a bit worried, as Mr. Spencer began to strap him in and, at one point, looked like he was about to object. Mr. Spencer kept talking, though, rambling on about nothing as he fastened the restraints on Matts arms, wrists, legs, and ankles. Then he tightened the body strap, pinning the boy to the chair.

"Mr. Spencer?" Matt asked. The old man didn't answer, instead plucking a small red ball-gag from a side drawer and bringing it up to Matt's mouth.

"Open up, boy." Mr. Spencer said, and Matt reluctantly obeyed. Pushing it into the boy's mouth, Mr. Spencer quickly fastened it in place. Then he stepped back, surveying his work. "Well, I hope you are comfortable Matt. The next three days are going to be quite interesting for you."

"Hmmhh?" Matt inquired, though he couldn't speak.

"Your step-uncle was about your age when he first came to the playroom. He'd told his parents he was spending the weekend with some friends so I had him down here for almost forty-eight hours. He didn't like it at first. Boys never do initially. But the heights of pleasure I brought him to eventually changed his mind. He came to crave it. Every boy eventually does."

With that, Mr. Spencer pulled out a pair of large metallic scissors and slowly began to cut away Matt's clothing. The boy began to struggle, though he could not move much.

"I can break a boy's resistance in eighteen hours. Once I do, they come to love me. Come to love visiting the playroom. Your step-uncle loved it so much, he tried to bring your father. Had the timing been right, your dad would have sat where you are sitting right now." Pat moaned quietly to himself. "And I have you for almost seventy-two hours. By the time I'm done with you, you will do everything you can to convince your folks to let you spend the summer with your grandmother. Just so you can slip away during the day to visit me."

The old man had finished cutting off the pajama bottoms and shirt by this point, pulling the fabric around the restraints and leaving Matt in only his underpants and socks. The socks were removed next, and Pat watched in horrible fascination as the man slipped the scissors into the waistband of the white briefs. A few quick motions later and the fabric was shredded, with Mr. Spencer pulling it away and exposing Matt's small hairless package to his soon-to-be molester and ghostly father.

Matt struggled, though he was powerless to resist the old man and could do nothing to cover himself up or protest the indignation of having his clothing taken away from him. Then the man pulled up a chair, sitting between Matt's outstretched legs and gently rubbing the boy's milky white thighs.

"I suppose I should tell you what's going to happen, huh kiddo" Mr. Spencer said conversationally. "But first, let me ask you a question. Do you know anything about sex?" Matt's eyes widened, though several seconds passed before he shook his head slightly. "Haven't had sex education yet?" Again, Matt shook his head. "Ever play with your penis? Touch it and make it feel good?" The response was again negative.

Pat groaned to himself, reaching down to adjust his hard tool in his pants. His son looked so vulnerable, and it had been some time since he'd seen his son naked like this. Though he really didn't want to be aroused, he had to admit that the sight drove him wild. Not his son, exactly. Pat was straight as an arrow and was not sexually attracted to his boys. No, it was the raw masochism of what he was seeing. The helplessness of another male who was about to be sexually dominated. And if what Scott had told him years earlier was even half true, his son was about to be absolutely conquered by this man. Precum began to leak out of his cock at the thought.

"Well, the specifics are something you can learn in school or from your dad. I'm not going to go into that. But what I will say is that I'm going to make you feel good. Really really good. Sometimes, I will make you feel so good, its actually going to hurt. Does that sound fun?" Mr. Spencer smiled up at Matt.

Matt shook his head in the negative once more.

"Well, too bad. It's going to happen whether you like it or not. So you might as well sit back and enjoy."

With that, the man pulled out a large bottle of KY lube and squeezed a healthy dollop into his hands. Then, after spreading it between both hands vigorously, he reached out and gently touched Matt's boycock. Matt jumped as if shocked by electricity, and he began to struggle harder. It didn't seem to bother Mr. Spencer. The older man used his left hand to gently play with the boy's smooth sack while his right hand gently squeezed the limp shaft. 

"Mhhmmmhh!" Matt said, though his words were unintelligible thanks to the ball gag.

"Yes, I know," Mr. Spencer responded. "It's going to start feeling good soon. I promise!" His fingers danced across the skin, the lube allowing them to coat the small package in a matter of moments. The flesh glistened in the light and, to the old man's obvious delight, began to stir. "That it!" Taking his thumb and forefinger, Mr. Spencer began to glide up and down the small tube, his gentle ministrations coaxing it to grow. And grow it did. In a matter of a moments, the man held a semi-erect boycock in his slick grasp.

Then, as if the soft erection was what he had been waiting for, Mr. Spencer wrapped his entire hand around the three inches and started to frisk it. Matt let out a grunt of surprised pleasure.

Pat watched in fascination as the man masturbated his son, the room filling with the soft sounds of slick flesh pressing against other slick flesh. After a couple of minutes, Mr. Spencer relented and released the boy's member. "There now," Mr. Spencer said admiringly. "Hard as a rock. And I'd bet you're about four inches long, huh?" Taking out a small tape measure, the man grasped the base of the cock and angled it away from the now sweating boy, measuring the cock. Pat looked over his shoulder. His son was only a few millimeters longer than four inches. Mr. Spencer had experience, apparently, and determining a boy's cock length.

"Alright Matt," the man said as he sat back and pouring more lube onto his hands, "Now that you're as hard as you can get, it's time to make you cum. You wanna cum?" Matt shook his head, clearly not knowing what the man meant. "Yeah you do. Take a deep breath, because this is going to be intense."

With that, the man used his left hand to press down on the boy's pubic mount, the cock resting between his thumb and index finger. Then he grasped it's base, angling it slightly away from the boy's belly and pressing down enough to cause the turgid member to harden slightly more. The result was that the boy's four inches poked out into empty space, defenseless.

Wrapping his right hand around the tool itself, Mr. Spencer began to slowly frisk it from tip to base, his hand moving in a slow rhythmic pattern that made sure to touch every square millimeter of the boy's sensitive cock. Matt began to buck in the chair, his head spasming slightly at the intensity of the feelings.

Pat was overwhelmed, his own cock spewing copious amounts of pre-cum into his pajama bottoms. In desperation, he loosened the cloth belt holding them up and pushed them down to his knees, freeing his own manly member and grasping it with a purpose. Covered in pre-cum, Pat found he had no trouble in stroking it in time with his son's molestation.

The rhythmic slapping sound increased in speed as Mr. Spencer's hand moved faster, the lube allowing him to slide rapidly over the boy's straining member. Matt began to grunt in time with the downward strokes, his body shuddering. He stopped fighting, overwhelmed, and his grunts took on a low throaty quality. His eyes were wide, but he was staring off into space.

"That's it, boy. Feel the pleasure building. Feel it getting ready to burst." Mr. Spencer said huskily. Then, as if noticing that Matt's vacant look, Mr. Spencer added, "Stay with me boy." With that, he opened his right hand, pressed his palm to the head of Matt's cock, and began to swirl around it in a polishing motion.

The sudden intense focus on his sensitive cock-head jolted Matt out of his trance and he screeched, his body spasming as he suddenly fought to get away from the intensity of the hand pressing down upon his coronal head. Apparently satisfied that the boy was now paying attention, Mr. Spencer suddenly released the cock-head and resumed frisking the whole cock, the boy going boneless for a moment as a low moan was torn from his throat. As it finished, Mr. Spencer sped up his stroking and his hand became blur.

Pat kept stroking himself, more aroused then he had ever been in his life. So many thoughts were jumbled in his head, but none more prominent that wanting to see his son cum for the first time. The high pitched moaning of Matt filled the room, but Pat's own grunts and groans created a deep bass that echoed into the rafters.

Suddenly, Matt seemed to come alive and he began to yell. "HMHHMM!! MHHMM!! HHMM!!!" His eyes were wide, and he was clearly trying to get Mr. Spencer to pay attention to him.

Spencer did not. "You don't have to pee, kiddo. You're just about to cum! Cum for me! Cum hard!" he said breathlessly, his hand frisking the spasming boy lighting fast. Matt's spasms became violent a heartbeat later and he let out hoarse grunts of pleasure. Then he went ridged, his body pulling at the bonds holding him in place as he squealed in climax.

Pat shot off into his hand, letting out a loud grunt as he watched his boy cum for the first time ever. It was an erotic sight, the boy straining against the bindings holding him in place while the man before him continued to eagerly jack him off. The boygasm lasted for several long seconds, though it appeared to Pat's dazed mind that little if anything was produced. 

Matt collapsed again, his body giving out as he head lolled back and his whining scream of pleasure dying out. Mr. Spencer apparently was ready for that reaction, because he once again released the still twitching cock with his right hand and began to palm the head vigorously. Matts reaction was instantaneous, the boy whipping his head forward and letting out a squeal that reminded Pat of a stuck pig.

"Oh no boy!" Mr. Spencer said loudly. "You're not done yet!" He continued to palm the head, causing Matt to thrash about and fight to get away. Pat took several long breaths as he came down from his own climax, watching his son's pleasurable plight as the man abused his boycock. It was so sensitive, Pat knew, and Mr. Spencer was not letting up. 

The abuse went on for nearly thirty seconds, with Matt squealing and sobbing the whole time, before Mr. Spencer suddenly went back to his original masturbatory technique. Left hand keeping the cock pointed at a forty-five degree angle and right hand frisking it hard, Matt's voice dropped an octave as sultry pleasure replaced sharp pleasure/pain.

To Pat's great amazement, Mr. Spencer's hand never slowed and he seemed not to tire out at all. For almost five minutes, he frisked the boy while Matt moaned and groaned while occasionally twitching. Then, all of a sudden, Mr. Spencer's hand increased in tempo once again and Matt began to grunt loudly. Five seconds later, the boy's eyes closed tight and he threw his head back, his body going ridged once again as his powerful orgasm overwhelmed him. "MMHHHH!!" He moaned breathlessly.

"Well done, Matt!" Mr. Spender said, his hand not stopping as the stroking continued unabated. Matt opened his eyes groggily, looking down at the man who was still masturbating him furiously. He let out some week protests and shifted in the chair, but two powerful boy-cums had stolen his energy. "Almost done, kiddo. Almost done. The third one always comes on quick. I promise."

Third one? Pat couldn't have heard that right. He was going to make Matt cum a third time?

The left hand released it's grip on the boy's cock and grabbed the lube, pouring a healthy stream onto the boy's still erect cock as the right hand kept stroking. Then, instead of going back to the previous position, the left hand dipped itself into the puddling lube and coated it's index finger. Pat watched in amazement as the index finger crept under the boy's sack and began to dance along the boy's taint.

Matt noticed the change and it took him a moment to figure out what was going on. Perhaps he had heard of butt sex on the playground or maybe he could just put two and two together, but the boy clearly realized where the finger was headed and began to fight his bonds once more. "HMMM! HMMM" He shouted, unintelligibly. Mr. Spencer didn't seem to mind, his right hand still frisking the cock at breakneck speed while his left hand's index finder crept closer and closer to the boy's virginal anus.

Pat repositioned himself on the ground so that he could see what was going on. The chair, it's design perfect for Mr. Spencer's activities, seemed to allow Mr. Spencer's fingers easy access to the boy's puckered hole and Pat watched with wide eyes and a hard cock as the man's finger lightly grazed the boy's wrinkled pink starfish. Matt let out a yelp. Pat let out a groan.

For almost thirty seconds, the man's finger teased the tight flesh as the boy groaned at the new feeling. Then the groaning grew in intensity and Mr. Spencer sped up his right hand in turn, with Matt starting to quiver in pre-orgasm delight. That must have been the sign for Mr. Spencer, then, because he suddenly shoved his finger two knuckles deep into the new boypussy and Matt let out a shriek of pleasure as he came for the third time.

Pat looked up and saw his boy, eyes wide open, twitching like he was having a seizure while cumming hard from the anal stimulation. As he wailed, Mr. Spencer removed his right hand from the boy's cock and Pat watched as the boy spasmed and dribbled out a very weak load of boycum. Mr. Spencer saw it as well, the man diving in and suckling at the boy's cock head. The feeling of the man's lips and tongue teasing his overwhelmed flesh caused Matt to shriek again, and Pat suddenly grunted and erupted without touching his own cock.

The next few minutes passed in a blur, with Mr. Spencer bringing out some wet-wipes and wiping down Matt. The boy was very passive, still overwhelmed from his ordeal. Pat realized that his cum had disappeared after both of his own orgasms, so he pulled up his pajamas and began to look around the room. It was filled with sex toys.

"Alright lad, its about ten o'clock." Mr. Spencer said finally as he put away the wet wipes and removed Matt's ball gag.

"You're going to let me go to bed?" Matt asked weakly as he moved his achy jaw.

Mr. Spencer smiled. "Oh, no. We have a long night ahead of us. I don't sleep much, truth be told, but I will probably take a brief nap tomorrow after lunch.

Matt, as if realizing that the man was still going to touch him, became nearly historical. "No! Sir! No more! Please, it was too much!"

Mr. Spencer sat back down and patted the boy on the leg. "I know. I know. I've done this many times before so I know what you're saying. But I have a pattern. Ways to make this go easy." Matt certainly didn't look convinced, and his expression said so. "You see, right now, your whole body is focused on your boycock. Your mind is as well. So for us to keep playing, we need to break that cycle. You need other feelings to interrupt those sexual feelings. Then we can get back to the fun."

With that, the man pulled out some stiff bristled brushes. "What? What are those for?" Matt asked fearfully.

"This," Mr. Spencer said, taking the two brushes in each hand and suddenly rubbing them viciously across Matt's vulnerable feet. The boy erupted in a scream of laughter.

"No! No! Stop! Please! AH!! NOO!!!!" Matt yelled, laughing in the hysterical way a child laughed when they are mercilessly tickled. Mr. Spencer didn't let up, though, and Matt kept squealing and pleading as the man continued to brush the boy's feet with the sharp bristles. "I'm gonna pee! I'm gonna pee!"

"Then pee!" Mr. Spencer said. An Matt did, his limp noodle letting loose a stream of gold as he lost control of his bladder. Mr. Spencer didn't seem to mind, and I noticed that the stone floor actually had a slight slant to it and a small open grate underneath the chair. The tickling abuse of Matt's feet went on for some time before Mr. Spencer removed them. Before Matt could catch his breath, the man leaned in and began to tickle Matt's hairless pits, his fingers digging into the boy who renewed his howling pleas for mercy. Then the fingers went to the feet, tickling and scratching and driving Matt crazy.

Darkness filled the room.

+++++

When it disappeared, Pat saw that they were still in the basement. A quick glance at the clock showed that almost two hours had passed, and Mr. Spencer was humming to himself as he put away his tickling tools. There were many more out that there had been initially, and Pat had to wonder at their various items and how they had been used.

Then he looked at Matt. The poor eleven-year-old was a hot mess, his hair plastered to his face and his body flushed with exertion. Snot ran down his cheeks and he looked totally out of it. Pat bit his lip in arousal. Being tickled was almost as good as being forced to cum, he surmised.

Mr. Spencer finished putting everything away and used more wet-wipes to clean the boy up. Matt was unresponsive, his breathing deep and his eyes unfocused. When Mr. Spencer slipped the ball gag back into his mouth, he barely resisted. Mr. Spencer secured it lovingly before sitting down on his chair.

Pat watched as the man pressed a button and the chair began to rise, startling Pat and Matt respectively. When it was a bit higher, Mr. Spencer slid forward and Pat realized why he had changed the position. His face was now inches from his son's limp boyhood.

Leaning in slightly, Mr. Spencer took the boy's cock in his mouth and began to lovingly suckle it, slurping and kissing the flesh while licking the balls every few moments. Matt groaned slightly, his eyes watching Mr. Spencer for a few moments before he closed them and rested his head. Apparently, Pat thought, Matt had resigned himself to his fate.

Minutes stretched on, with Mr. Spencer tenderly teasing the boy's cock as it slowly began to thicken and grow. His oral ministrations working, the man reached up with both hands and began to tweak Matt's nipples. Matt grunted at that, opening his eyes for a moment before apparently determining it was alright and closing them again. Pat watched as the nipples grew stiff, long before the boy reached his full four inches.

But he reached it eventually, with Mr. Spencer patient and persistent. His tongue licked Matt's small slit while his fingers tweaked the boy's tits and soon Matt was moaning. Mr. Spencer change tactics, sucking the entire tool into his mouth and bobbing from base to tip. Matt's moans grew louder. Then Mr. Spencer grabbed the tool with both hands, pulled it out at and angle, and began to treat it like an ice-cream cone, his mouth opening and closing on the thick flesh while his tongue danced around the ridge of the boy's cock head.

A sharp inhalation of breath indicated that it had become too much for Matt and Mr. Spencer, his hands already at the boy's nipples and twisting them hard, sucked the cock to the root and began to pound the boy's member with his mouth. Matt let out a sharp grunt, his body stiffening as he came. "HMMMM!!!!" he moaned, his body spasming once more. Mr. Spencer didn't let up, and Pat could see him swallow something. His boy had blown a second load, perhaps?

What had been a loving and gentle blowjob ended, then, and Mr. Spencer became aggressive and eager. Matt began to grunt and groan loudly, protesting the continued sucking but unable to resist. Pat watched as Mr. Spencer attacked the boy's cock hungrily, the man never tiring. Pat reached down and began to play with himself, sure the man as going to force his boy to cum again soon.

"HM! HM! HM! HM! HM" Matt soon began chanting, his lethargy gone an his eyes wide. He was struggling weakly against the bindings, but he was unable to get his cock away from the hungry mouth tormenting him. A vibrating dildo was suddenly in Mr. Spencer's hand, the loud buzzing filling the room as he passed it's tip against Matt's sack. The boy let out a gargled wail as the man's mouth sucked him expertly and the toy buzzed along his balls. It was too much for the boy, then, and he grunted in climax.

"MMHHHH!!!!!!" He shouted, his body stiff and his lungs heaving for air between howls of orgasm. There was nothing the boy could do, of course, but he did begin to sob as Mr. Spencer refused to let up.

Soon, the man, who seemed to have hidden drawers easily at his command, pulled out two vibrating nipple clips and attached them to Matt's abused nipples. They began to buzz aggressively, and Matt howled at the feeling. It didn't stop Mr. Spencer, though the man did ease up and let the boy's cock fall from his mouth.

"Last one for the night, I promise. I know you have one more cum in you, and it's going to take a lot to draw it out. But I promise you we will." Matt kept sobbing, oblivious to the man's reassurances. Pat kept stroking himself, eager to see what came next.

A cloth sleeve was pulled out of a drawer and slipped over the boy's still straining member. Pat watched as several more devices were pulled out and attached to the sleeve. Before he knew it, four small vibrators, no bigger then pinky fingers, were surrounding his son's member. One on to of the shaft. One underneath. And two flanking it. The only part of the shaft that was clearly visible was the head.

Then Mr. Spencer tapped another button on the chair and the four buzzed to life, Matt sharply inhaling as his cock was pleasured by four separate but codependent vibrators. Mr. Spencer took the vibrating cock, then, and slid up underneath the boy so it's tip rested against his pink pucker, giving Matt an addition shock. As Matt squealed, Mr. Spencer bent down and engulfed Matt's cock head in his mouth, nursing it like a babe might suckle his mother's tit.

Matt bucked and screamed. He'd already cum five times. The sixth was not going to happen. He grunted and yelled, trying to get away. Mr. Spencer rode with him, always there and always suckling. Matt's voice grew in pitch and volume, but Mr. Spencer didn't seem to care. Then, after quite some time, Matt let out a howl of defeat and came, his body shaking uncontrollably as he was forced to boygasm. The eleven year old squealed, squeaked, and then, after taking one deep breath, passed out.

Darkness engulfed the basement.

"But the story didn't end there..."

Pat read that last part aloud before realizing he was back in his son's room, the darkness gone and Matt asleep on the bed. Pat climaxed, then, his throbbing cock firing into his pajama pants as he tried desperately not to make noise.

Thirty seconds later, with cum seeping down his leg, Pat closed the book softly and stood, trying not to wake his son. Looking down at Matt, he saw the boy's own pajama's were tented obscenely and a large wet patch outlined his stiff pre-teen cock. Pat leaned in, sniffed, and stood back up. His boy had cum.

Slinking out the door, Pat headed to the bathroom. He didn't know what had just happened but he remembered it clearly. A magic book? Old Mr. Spencer? His step-brother Scott? Was it a dream? Or was it something more.

Pat fell asleep that night, his thoughts a jumble and his mind racing as he remembered Matt in the playroom.


	2. Chapter 2

The hot water beat down on Pat as he stood in the shower, basking in the sensation as he thought about the night before. He remembered the whole thing, from start to finish, but was having trouble wrapping his mind around what had actually happened. Pouring a bit of shampoo into his palm, he began to lather up his hair as he thought about it.

It wasn't a dream, he mused. He had definitely been awake. A hallucination? Possible, though it seemed so real. Magic? That was the question. The Scott he had talked to during the events had said it was magic and, if Pat was being honest with himself, it was a possibility that he couldn't dismiss. Magic wasn't real… unless it was. But Scott had said something else. He had said that Pat would learn more if he read more of the stories. Did Pat dare crack open the book?

Scott. His older stepbrother. A person Pat hadn't seen in years and years. Scott's father had married Pat's mom when Pat had been a pre-teen. The new boy, only a couple of years older than him, had taken an immediate liking to Pat and Pat had enjoyed having an older sibling. Then, when Scott started doing sex stuff to him, things changed.

Scott taught him how to masturbate, forcing the inexperienced Pat to have his first ever orgasm. Scott taught him how to receive a blowjob, pinning the smaller boy to the bed while he suckled Pat's throbbing little boner. Scott had taught him how much fun a finger up the ass could be, whether Pat really wanted to experience it or not. 

And Scott had forced Pat to cum. A lot. Every night. Multiple times. The bigger boy would toy with Pat's body, bringing the youngster to unimaginable heights of pleasure. But he'd take it so far, making Pat cum several times in a short period of time. Playing with Pat's cock even after the boy had spilled his load and dragging Pat through the pleasurable pain of post-orgasm torment.

It lasted for years. Even as Pat became pubescent and developed an interest in girls, Scott would continue to slip into his room and get him off. When he became a high school student, and started dating, Scott, who was living at home while he went to the local junior college, would still sneak into his room late at night and toy with his body. Pat remembered with some fondness how Scott sucked him to three explosive orgasms in the hours before Pat took Melissa Bellview to junior prom, the exhausted Pat unable to get an erection later that night despite Melissa's eagerness for some fun.

And then their parents divorced. Scott moved across the country for work. Pat went to college. The two lost touch. By the time Pat realized how much he missed Scott, he'd lost the ability to contact the older man. Phone numbers didn't work. Addresses were old. Family members died. Social media failed. The world moved on.

Pat hadn't thought about Scott in quite a while, though. Sure, he knew that so many of his sexual proclivities, like being bound tight in bondage while being forced to cum, stemmed from his experiences with his older stepbrother. But Pat was straight, enjoyed pussy, and loved his wife. He wasn't gay, and the thought of being with another man didn't do anything for him. Well, not really…

There was one man who Pat had fantasized about for years. One man who had captured Pat's imagination and to whom Pat would willingly give his body. Mr. Spencer. Sure, Pat had no idea who Mr. Spencer was. Hell, he didn't know if the Mr. Spencer he had seen the previous night was really the Mr. Spencer that he had imagined in his head. But Mr. Spencer, whom Pat had always thought of as 'Scott's friend' because he hadn't known his name, had also played a significant role in his sexual identity.

When Pat was about thirteen, Scott, who was about sixteen or seventeen, began telling him about a much older friend who lived in town and whom Scott had come to know really well. Scott had said that this friend, whom he never named, had a basement filled with sex toys and that the older man could make you cum so hard, you'd pass out. The man was a master at the art of sex, drawing cums out of his playthings until they couldn't take it anymore. Then he'd go further. Scott talked about the man reverently, and it captured Pat's imagination.

When Scott finally announced to Pat that the older friend had invited them both over for an upcoming weekend, the same weekend their parents were going to be out of town, Pat was excited and scared. He sometimes didn't like the things Scott did to him, his burgeoning sexual identity pulling him towards the fairer sex and rebelling against the submissive role forced upon him by his stepbrother. But part of him relished the contact, and thoughts of what this man might due to him got him hard as a rock. His excitement grew when Scott told him that the man had promised to make Pat cum thirteen times over the course of their visit, one for each year of his life.

Then, about a week before they were supposed to go to the mysterious man's house, Scott stopped talking about it. He became immediately sullen and angry, though Pat could also sense Scott was sad and heartbroken. When Pat asked about their plans, Scott told him to drop it. That it wasn't happening. That Pat should forget Scott ever mentioned the man.

And that was the end of it. Scott eventually came out of his funk, nothing was ever mentioned again about the man, and Pat continued to let Scott molest him up until he graduated highschool. But the feelings of fear and excitement never went away for Pat, and he had wondered about that man for years after the whole thing had happened.

So was that man in the dream book the real mysterious friend of Scotts?

The day flew by, with Pat doing all the things he needed to do as a father while his three sons went about their day. It was a Saturday, so there was housework and yardwork and all sorts of other things to busy the four males. Matt seemed normal, as if he didn't even remember the previous night. Pat didn't ask him about it, though thoughts of what had happened continued to send jolts of arousal through his body. Eventually, though, the night came and, with it, a feeling of excitement deep in Pat's bones.

After saying goodnight to Matt, whose bedtime was later than his two younger brothers, Pat went downstairs and curled up on the couch. Then, taking the book out with trembling hands, he opened it.

It was blank.

"For fuck sake," Pat muttered, browsing through the book. Every page was empty, including the first few. "How the hell?" he said in exasperation. Strange…

A stray thought crossed his mind and Pat's cock lurched slightly. Biting his lip, Pat left the couch and carefully made his way up to Matt's room. Opening it slightly, he saw his boy roll over to look at him in the darkness.

"Dad?" Matt said, sleep already thick in his voice.

"Hey buddy," Pat said, slipping in the room and closing the door. Mat slept in darkness so Pat had to flip on the table lamp, filling the room with a dim glow as he crossed over to sit on his son's bed. Holding the book out, he asked, "Do you remember this from last night?"

Matt gave him a quizzical look. "Um… Kinda. That's a book mom bought right? I remember you started to read it last night but I fell asleep. Why?"

"I…" Pat didn't have a good answer. Opening the book, he saw, to his astonishment, the words were back and, in fact, he had turned immediately to a half empty page of chapter two. It was titled 'The Playroom Part Two'. "I want to keep reading to you." Matt gave him an incredulous look. 

"I'm a bit old for bedtime stories" the eleven-year-old said.

Pat didn't respond, looking down and reading the first line aloud instead.

"…for there was much more to the tale."

A flash of darkness filled the room, and Pat once again found himself in Mr. Spencer's basement. The older man was not there, though Matt certainly was. The boy's situation had changed, however, and Pat found himself getting hard.

The gynecological chair was gone, replaced by an elaborate set of silken ropes that were attached to an extravagant bondage swing which hung from the sturdy rafters. The bondage swing held Matt, the boy resting back at about a thirty degree angle to the floor below him. His legs were splayed wide, though, bent at the knees and tied in such a way that put his coltish feet only a few inches from his supple butt cheeks. The way the ropes and swing were clutching his thighs and ankles had the effect of forcing the boy's bottom to part, his pink little hole easy to see in the light of the basement. He no longer had nipple clamps on, nor did he have a ball gag in his mouth. In fact, but for the lewd positioning, he almost looked innocent in sleep.

"He's been like that for almost an hour," Said a voice behind Pat. Pat jumped, turning slightly to see Scott. The man gave him a devilish grin before stepping forward and nodding to Matt. "Mr. Spencer really did a number on him. Six boycums is a lot for a kid his age. Especially since he's never cum before."

Pat swallowed, hoarsely. Looking closer at his son, he could see Matt was asleep. "What's going on?"

"Well, it's nearly four in the morning," Scott said, pointing to the clock on the wall. "After Mr. Spencer blew your boy to his sixth orgasm, the kid passed out. Mr. Spencer took him down, moved the chair, re-installed the swing, and bound him up once again. Used those wet-wipes to clean him up good, then went upstairs."

Pat's breathing increased. "Mr. Spencer is letting him sleep?"

Scott shrugged. "For now. I'd bet he'll be back any second." The door upstairs suddenly opened and footsteps filled the basement, both men looking over to see Mr. Spencer coming down the stairs. "Right on time. It's exactly 4am."

"Matt, it's time to wake up," Mr. Spencer said as he stood next to Matt and gently played with the boy's face. Matt woke slowly, his eyes unfocused until he saw Mr. Spencer. "Please!" he said, suddenly. "Let me go."

"Oh no, kiddo. Not yet. I promise I'm going to let you go eventually, but there is still lots of fun left to be had. The next six hours are going to lay the groundwork for that, ok?"

"Six hours?" Matt said, his eyes widening. "Please! Don't touch my wiener! Please! I can't take it!" Matt began to cry, fearing the pleasure his little cock might be forced to endure.

"Don't worry, Matt! Your little boyclit is not going to be touched, I promise!" Pulling up his chair, Mr. Spencer sat down and Pat realized his face was at the same level as Matt's bottom. Pat got harder.

"Yeah, you know where this is going brother," Scott whispered.

"Oh fuck," Pat whispered.

"I am going to play with your boypussy, though." Mr. Spencer said, before he leaned in and began to lap at Matt's hole.

"Oh! Oh! NO! STOP! UGH! WAIT! THAT FEELS SO WEIRD! STOP!" Matt grunted, struggling slightly as Mr. Spencer continued to bathe his hole with the man's dexterous tongue.

"Fuckkkkk!" Pat groaned.

"I know. Hot, huh?" Scott said. "How are you enjoying my book?"

Pat bit his lip, not looking away from Matt as the boy panted and grunted while Mr. Spencer pulled the boy's ass cheeks apart eagerly and battered the twitching pink hole with the flat of his tongue. "I don't understand," Pat eventually said. "Is this really magic?"

"It is," Scott responded.

"So Matt and I are really here?"

"Yep. You are."

"But what if someone comes into Matts room? What if Mark or Luke need me tonight?"

"Oh, this whole thing takes place instantaneously. When this story is done, you and your son will be transported back into his room at the same moment you left. No one will know."

"What about Matt?"

"He won't know either. He'll think he had a really sexy dream, but he'll wake up in the morning none the wiser."

"Is Mr. Spencer really the guy whose house we were going to visit back when I was thirteen?" Pat asked, his hand slipping into his pj's to stroke himself as he listened to Matt moan while Mr. Spencer nibbled on the boy's anal ring. The man was aggressive, dominating the boy's hole and clearly determined to make Matt submit to the analingus. Matt, for his part, was grunting and groaning while struggling slightly, his pink starfish unable to escape the man's pestering tongue and mouth. Occasionally, the boy would let out a 'No' or a 'please' but Mr. Spencer paid him no mind.

"He is. Though he's dead now." Scott said matter-of-factly.

"Huh?" Pat grunted, glancing over at his stepbrother.

"Mr. Spencer is dead. Died a week before we were going to go to his house. That's why I was so upset. I was about to see you get the full treatment at his talented hands for a whole weekend but I lost the chance." Scott shook his head, sighing ruefully.

"He looks really alive right now," Pat observed. As he thought back to it, Scott's behavior did make sense if the man whom he'd come to practically worship had died just before the two boys went to visit him.

"This is a magical creation within the book. A doppleganger of sorts." Scott responded. "I do miss the old man. A lot. But his notes helped me make the book, so his memory does live on."

"What do you mean?" Pat asked. "How did you make the book?"

"That's a story for another time," Scott said, chuckling. "Look at your boy. He's starting to get hard." Sure enough, as Pat peered at the boy, his boycock began, ever so slowly, to engorge. Mr. Spencer didn't seem to notice or, if he did, didn't care. He appeared focused on Matt's boyhole. Obsessive. Fanatical. Matt, for his part, had stopped protesting and was now just grunting and groaning in time with the enthusiastic rim job.

Mr. Spencer pummeled the hole with his tongue, sliding it around the wrinkled rim in rapid strokes before lapping at the twitching flesh. Then he'd slurp the whole thing, latching his mouth onto to ring and sucking. Matt's breathing was erratic, his whole body shuddering when Mr. Spencer would let go and begin to drag the flat of his tongue over a portion of the virginal entrance. The assault didn't let up, and Pat had to admire the stamina of the old man. Eating ass took energy, and Mr. Spencer seemed like a power plant.

"The next time I read the book?" Pat asked, glancing back to Scott. Scott was gone, and Pat sighed.

For almost half an hour, Pat watched Mr. Spencer make love to Matt's hole, his long dexterous tongue exploring every nook and cranny of the wrinkled flesh. The man was talented, sometimes lapping at the puckered hole and sometimes drilling in deep. Then he'd use his thumbs to pry open Matt's bottom even more, exposing the pink pussy to even deeper oral ministrations.

For his part, Matt seemed to be reluctantly enjoying the experience, his body twitching while the eleven-year-old let out moans of delight. He did occasionally protest, Pat noted, but they were half-hearted and were quickly swallowed up by grunts of approval. His cock stained, though it was left untouched.

Mr. Spencer eventually came up for air, the man showing no signs of weariness. It took several seconds for Matt to apparently register that his hole was no longer being pleasured, and he opened his eyes to look down at the seated older man. "Matt," Mr. Spender said huskily.

"Huh?" Matt answered, his voice breathless with lust.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

Matt seemed to think it over for a moment before a flash of defiance flitted across his eyes. "No. Please, let me go." Matt whined the last part, and Pat grinned. His boy didn't whine often anymore, but he could still bitch like the best of them when he wanted to.

Mr. Spencer grinned. "I'm not going to do that." Moving his hands to Matt's feet, he tapped his fingernails against the boy's soles and raked down the tender flesh. Matt let out a squeal of surprise, his feet suddenly wiggling at the sharp tickling feelings sped up his spine.

"NOO!!! STOPP!!" Mat squealed but Mr. Spencer ignored him. As he abused poor Matt's sensitive feet and the boy laughed and pleaded, the old man bent down and blew against the eleven-year-olds twitching pucker. Pat watched as his boy's hole opened and closed frantically, the cool air of the mans breath sending the boy's cries up an octave. The tickle torture went on for several minutes, before Mr. Spender eventually let up.

Once Matt had calmed down, the man quietly asked, "So, my question stands. Are you enjoying what I'm doing to your bottom or should I keep tickling you?"

Pat watched as the decision raced around Matt's head, the boy torn. The rimming obviously felt good, Pat knew, but the boy was trying to reject it due to it's vary nature. But he didn't want to be tickled, either!

"My… My butt, please." Matt finally said, his voice hoarse.

"That's my boy. Can you ask me to make your boypussy feel good, just so I know exactly what you want?"

Matt seemed to recoil at the request briefly before a look of defeat crossed his face. "Can you make my… my… boypussy feel good?"

"With my tongue?"

"With your tongue…"

"Of course, Matt. I'm glad you told me what you wanted. Now, I want you to relax as best you can because the next five and a half hours are going to be intense?"

"Five and a half hours?" Matt asked in confusion.

"Oh yes. You see, in order to turn your hole into a proper boypussy, I need to eat it out for about six hours. That's the secret to turning a straight boy's asshole into a gay sluttyboy's pussy. Constant aggressive analingus. By the time I'm done with you, your little boycunt will be eager for all sorts of fun!

With that, Mr. Spencer dove back in with a fury Pat hadn't seen before. He blinked several times, certainly that the man's tongue had grown longer and thicker as he began to really pester the hell out of Matt's shuddering hole. Matt began to groan loudly, though Mr. Spencer ignored him. The boy's cock, which had drooped a bit, sprang back to life and Pat's jaw dropped at the enthusiasm of the old man.

Darkness flashed in the room.

When it dissipated, Pat's eyes went wide. Matt's head had lolled back, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as drool dripped down his cheek and fell to the stone floor. His body was totally relaxed, though his muscles did twitch occasionally. The boy's cock was unnervingly stiff, with Pat almost concerned for the boy's hard-on until he noticed a thick string of what appeared to be pre-cum oozing out of the kid's slit and into a rather large pool of cock snot resting on his hairless pelvis. The boy was leaking like a faucet! Had he cum at all, Pat thought? No, he realized. This was the result of six hours of powerful rimming.

Mr. Spencer was still eating away at Matt hole, his eagerness undiminished at all as he licked, slurped, sucked, and assaulted the pink ring with an unnatural ferocity. Only this time, when he used his thumbs to pry apart the flesh, Matt's hole eagerly opened wide. Pat almost choked. The kid's hole was surprisingly elastic, the dark pink interior much more visible now that it was hours earlier.

"I bet he could take a cock…" Pat whispered to himself, the thought sending a large splash of his own pre-cum into his sweatpants. Just as he was about to reach down and play with himself, Mr. Spencer sat back and grinned.

"Well Matt, you did very good. How does your hole feel?" The man asked, using a thumb to rub the shiny ridges of the boy's swollen pucker. 

Matt seemed to come out of his stupor, then, as he groggily looked down at Mr. Spencer and moaned. "Please… Please touch my wiener…" The boy begged lewdly, his voice husky and filled with need.

"Oh no, lad. Nobody is going to be touching that thing for a while. But are you asking to cum? Is that the reason you want me to touch it?" Matt looked a bit confused by the reference but nodded, the context apparently enough. "Yes, I understand. Now that we've jumpstarted your sex drive, I bet your balls are just aching for release. So I'm going to get a friend of mine to help you out."

Pat and Matt both stared at the old man as he opened another drawer and pulled our a rather large prostate massager, the curved rubber thick and intimidating. "Huh?" Matt said, not quite understanding. The thing was shaped like an anchor or a curved T, the prostate massager in the middle and two wings designed to stay outside the body.

"This is 'The Intruder' Matt, a dear friend of mine who has very eagerly shown many boys how fun it is to come visit my basement. And today, for the next few hours, you and he are going to become intimately close.

With that, the man poured a very healthy dollop of lube onto the black rubber before pushing the nozzle of the bottle against Matt's still distended hole and squeezing. Matt jumped, the cold lube apparently shocking him into full alertness.

"I don't get it!" Matt said as Mr. Spender removed the lube bottle and began to position The Intruder at the boy's back door. "Wait! Stop!"

Mr. Spencer grinned, ignoring the boy as he slowly pressed the head of the prostate massager against he boy's pucker and chuckling to himself as the boy's flesh parted to accommodate the invasion.

"Hey! Wait! Stop! No!" Matt yelled.

"Protest all you want, Matt, but your boypussy seems eager to meet The Intruder!"

Pat gaped. Mr. Spencer was right. The sex toy should have been way too big for Matt, but the boy hole opened up without a problem. Matt scrunched his face for a moment as the first few inches slid home, but Pat could tell it was not a mask of pain. Instead, Matt seemed only confused at the sensation.

Then the thing was entirely encased by his eleven-year-old son's bottom, the boy apparently registering the huge tool in his ass only after it had come to snugly nestle against his hairless taint. "Ughh!" Matt grunted, exhaling loudly. Pat bit his lip as he looked at what remained, a cross bar of the tool spreading along Matt's crack towards his back and his balls. In fact, one end seemed to rest right under Matt's balls, it's bulbus head almost assuredly having it own vibrator inside.

Mr. Spencer tapped a few commands on a side remote and Matt let out a high pitched yelp of surprise. "Don't worry my boy. That's The Intruder inflating it's base so that it stays firmly in place. Don't want you forcing it out at any point, do we?"

Matt and Pat were too preoccupied to pay much attention to Mr. Spencer, the former looking down at his now soft cock and the black bit of rubber beyond his balls while the latter stared dumbly at the huge tool imbedded in the boy. Then the father and son both jumped as the door to the basement closed. Mr. Spencer was gone.

Pat looked up and saw it was now almost ten-thirty in the morning. Then he looked down at his son, who was staring worriedly up at the stairs.

"Mr. Spencer!" Matt called after a moment. There was no answer. "Mr. Spencer!!!" he called again, getting no response. Pat walked around the boy, interested to see what was going to happen next.

Matt, apparently deciding the old man was gone, started to struggle a bit in his bindings but quickly stopped, a look of surprise and concern flashing across his face. His breathing sped up slightly before the boy appeared to try and relax. Seconds ticked by and the eleven-year-old, apparently satisfied, started to meekly struggle once more. Then he inhaled sharply, biting his lip. His eyes suddenly darted down to his cock, which had started to chub up once again.

Pat smilled. The prostate massager was going about it's insidious work.

The boy, obviously concerned, started to squirm around as best he could but his bondage held tight. It didn't stop him. He began to thrash about, grunting and groaning as his cock became stiffer and stiffer. Soon, he was panting hard, his movements apparently no longer designed to get away from the ropes holding him tight and instead a desperate bid to get away from the feelings inside his bottom. The incessant, persistent feelings.

"No no no no no" Matt began to whimper, his eyes wide as he began heave with long deep breaths. Pat dropped his sweatpants, grasping his hard cock and beginning to stroke it eagerly.

"Ughhhh." "Ughhhhhh." "UHGGG." " AHHHHH." "UGHHAAHHHHHH." "OHH SHITTT"

Pat watched as Matt looked around desperately while the waves of unusually intense and utterly foreign pleasure seemed to assault him. The boy's body trembled and twitched involuntarily, and Pat could almost see the boy's pelvis rising and falling slightly as if he was unconsciously riding the thing in his ass. Then the boy began to weep, fat tears falling down his face as his cried.

Normally, seeing Matt cry would have tugged at Pat's heart, but all it did now as fuel his own lust. The boy was not crying in pain, Pat knew. He was crying in pleasure. One quick glance at his son's straining four-inch cock, which was again leaking heavy pearls of precum onto his quivering belly, was enough to satisfy Pat. "Hold on kiddo," Pat whispered with a grin.

Matts crying rose in volume before stopping mid-wail, the boy's face shifting in a split second to one of delirious determination. His teeth clenched, his eyes lidded beneath eyelashes filled with sparkling tears, and his face tight, the boy's cry evolved into breathless grunts and groans that rose in ever increasing volume and intensity. Then his breathing changed from deep and slow to shallow and rapid.

"Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!" He grunted, his lips pulling back in a rictus of intensity.

"AH! AHH! UGHH!!" He bellowed, his face contorting in a mix between rage, fear, and pleasure.

"AHHH!! AHHH!! AHHHHHH!!!" He screamed through gritted teeth, his body going rigid.

"UGGHHHHAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!" He shrieked.

Blast after blast of preteen cum burst from his straining cock as Matt heaved and howled, his body frozen in the powerful prostate climax while he desperately fought against his bonds. It was no use, the boy's muscles taught and visible beneath his skin as he erupted again and again all over himself, his face a tortured visage of excruciating pleasure.

Pat came hard, his own load firing outward as he watched his son flush in orgasm, the boy's "O" face reminding a part of his brain of a Picasso painting.

As if his son had just come up from the bottom of a pool, Matt suddenly inhaled sharply before all of his tense muscles relaxed and he collapsed into his bindings. The boy's load, thin and watery, rolled down his belly and onto the floor as he let out a loud exhale and Pat followed suit. It had been a powerful orgasm, for both of them.

Seconds ticked by as Pat, his pants back up around his waist, paced around the room and looked at this and that. Matt, apparently, had realized that moving around forced the toy to tease the little panic button inside of his bottom so he appeared to be trying to remain as still as possible, his breath still loud in the space but his attempts at escape forgotten.

The clock slowly ticked onward, and Pat watched ten minutes pass while he took stock of the room's various tools. Just as Pat began to wonder what would happen next, a sudden sharp BZZZZT filled the room. It disappeared a split second later, replaced by Matt's startled cry. Pat hurried over to the boy, sitting in the nearby chair and tilting his head towards the exposed sex toy. He waited.

BZZZZT.

The toy vibrated for a fraction of a second once more.

"FUCK! SHIT!" Matt grunted, not quite surprised this time but certainly alarmed. Pat grinned. "Mr. Spencer!" the boy yelled. "Please help! PLEASE!"

BZZZZT. It came again and Pat watched his son's muscles contract, the boy scrunching up his face and thrusting his chest slightly forward as his abdominal muscles tightened. The boy's cock, which had shrunk down considerably, began to expand.

BZZZZT.

BZZZZT.

BZZZZT.

BZZZZT.

Matt's breathing began to grow ragged, the time between the buzzing long enough for him to have a brief respite where his muscles started to loosen but much too short for his body to cool down from the shock of pleasure. Pat's eyes grew wide as the boy started struggling once more, the movement certainly not helping him escape while clearly causing the naughty invader to grind up against his immature prostate.

BZZZZT.

Matt whimpered, this particular vibration occurring while his body was still tense and probably sending all of the vibrations directly into his boybutton. Then, as if it was all too much, the boy burst into tears. A small part of the boy's brain must have recognized that struggling was going to push him over the edge sooner rather than later, though, because his body went slack once more as he cried.

The room went dark.

The next thing Pat knew, the clock nearby had advanced by nearly thirty minutes and Matt, not quite bawling, was letting out long ragged mewls of pleasurable agony. The tool kept up its assault, the loud vibrations sounding at regular intervals. The small cock leaked copious amounts of pre-cum, though Pat surmised the boy had to be almost dry.

Then, quite suddenly, the pattern changed.

BZZZZT… BZZZZT… BZZZZT… BZZZZT… BZZZZT… BZZZZT… BZZZZT… BZZZZT…

Matt immediately seized up, his body going ridged as the multiple seconds between each vibration was cut down to less than a second. That must have been too much for his abused little nut, for the boy began to shake in a violent boygasm. His face scrunched up as if he smelled something terrible, his eyes closed and his mouth wide open in a silent scream. The climax seemed to go on and on, his cock-snot only slightly increasing in volume while he exhaled and exhaled and exhaled.

Pat's cock was rock hard as he watched his boy cum, part of him wondering if the boy would turn blue from lack of oxygen while another part was rooting for the lad to pass out. Neither happened, as the tool molesting his son went silent and Matt inhaled loudly. Then he collapsed, his body twitching randomly.

Darkness flashed again, and Pat immediacy glanced up at the clock. Almost an hour had passed. His boy, totally still and nearly comatose, stared blankly ahead through heavily lidded eyes.

Almost before Pat could start thinking about it, the tool once again roared to life.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ… BZZZZBZZZZBZZZZ… BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ… BZZZZBZZZZBZZZZ…  
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ… BZZZZBZZZZBZZZZ… BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ… BZZZZBZZZZBZZZZ…

It was louder than before. Angrier. As if it was mad at Matt for trying to remain still, for fighting back against it's incessant pleasure.

Matt screamed, his semi-soft cock becoming impossibly stiff in moments. He started to fight his bonds, snorting and moaning and gasping at the same time.

Darkness, once again.

Matt was there, the buzzing in his backside even louder than before and now totally uninterrupted. The boy was thrashing about, though how much of it was his attempt at breaking free from the assault and how much of it was an inescapable drygasm was anyone's guess. Before Pat could look at the clock, the darkness flashed again.

The sound of the vibrator filled the room, though it was inconsistent. Sometimes buzzing for long seconds before quitting, sometimes buzzing in rapid suggestion, Pat guessed it was now randomly attacking his boy's unguarded prostate. Matt seemed a wild animal, his eyes wide one moment and closed the next, his breathing coming in long gasps before ending in short huffs. He screamed and moaned. He snorted and cried. He thrashed about and lay still. Nothing helped. The Intruder kept assaulting him, forcing him to experience the overwhelming pleasure.

The door to the basement opened, and Pat watched Mr. Spencer ambled down, oblivious to the near continuous prostate-induced orgasms afflicting the eleven-year-old before him. Pat watched, his cock unbelievably stiff, as the man slid up to the boy's head and gently, almost lovingly, tilted it back. Then he unclasped his pants, letting them drop to the floor as his own cock, a large veiny gnarled thing, sprung free.

Pat chanced a glance at the clock, noticing that the Intruder had been working over Matt for almost four hours, before he returned his gaze the old man.

"Here you are sweetie," the man murmured, placing the tip of his cock at Matt's mouth. To Pat's utter shock, the boy latched on and began to suckle it. Whipping his own cock out of his pants, Pat began to beat off furiously. His boy was a cocksucker? Did it have something to do with the Intruder?

Mr. Spencer tilted Matt's head back even further, until the preteen's mouth and throat were parallel with he ground. Then the old man gently thrust forward, his cock sliding deeper and deeper past Matt's lips until it appeared to meet the back of the boy's throat. Then, as Pat watched in awe, Mr. Spencer leaned down and took Matt's throbbing cock into his mouth and began to suck it, the awkward 69 doing nothing to inhibit either man or boy from the other's tool.

The pleasure of getting his cock sucked and his prostate tortured was apparently too much for Matt, who let out a loud strangled scream and began to violently shake in yet another orgasm. Mr. Spencer suddenly lurched forward, cutting off the sound as his cock slid down the boy's throat and his balls came to rest on the boy's forehead.

Then Mr. Spencer began to fuck Matt's throat, humping the boy with ease while he continued to suck the kid's twitching boner. It lasted several minutes, their grunts and groans driving Pat crazy as he beat his meat furiously.

Eventually, Pat lost it, cumming all over his hand just as Mr. Spencer let out a loud grunt and thrust into Matt for the last time, dumping his seed into Pat's little boy.

Darkness became absolute.

"And yet that wasn't quite the end..."

Pat, his voice hoarse, read those words aloud despite the fact that he was still cumming in his pants. He looked down at Matt as his orgasm rocked him, noticing that the boy was asleep, hard as a rock in his pajama bottoms, and apparently having a wet dream. Through waves of pleasure, Pat watched the boy's cock throb several times as a huge wet stain spread across the fabric. It was too much.

Standing, Pat closed the book and shakily left the room.


End file.
